Desc is Missing

Yurolt sips cautiously from his mug of klah, a hot steam rising from within. He gazes serenly into the hearth fire, enjoying his time off.

With the weather warming, many people are spending time out of doors, clearing walkways and tending to things that could not get done during the winter, or the spring thaw. But as spring begins to slowly ease into summer, the living caverns are seeing less business. Of course that doesn't keep people from still using it, and Kimmila is no exception. The woman enters from the door to the bowl, stomping mud from her boots and hanging up a light jacket, wearing a sweater beneath. Her belly is curved with pregnancy, and as she walks she instinctively trails her fingers over the backs of chairs to help with her balance. Walking to the food tables she eyes the beers with longing and selects some juice instead, before picking up a plate to start filling with food.

Yurolt sits up all the straiter as he hears someone coming into the caverns. He was rather enjoying his solitude, but is always ready to serve or socialize, whatever the situation dictates. He glances to see who it is and whether he needs to scatter. Seeing the pregnant woman he stands strait and nods graciously saying, "Ma'am." Still not certain as to who this person is he gives a curt salute, though it is apparent he is uncertain of it's neccisity.

Kimmila isn't wearing a knot, so who knows if the salute is needed or not. Glancing over at the boy, she eyes him for a moment before she nods. "Kimmila," she corrects with a slightly crooked smile. Food plate full (quite full!) she carries it and her juice over towards the hearth, stopping beside one of the chairs there. "Mind if I join you?"

Yurolt flusters slightly. He's not one for throughing formality to wind. "Kimmila…a pleasure." This is followed by a low bow. He motions enthusiastically to the empty seats near him, saying, "Not at all, please join me." He throws on his most charming smile, well what he 'thinks' is a charming smile. "I'm Yurolt…Um..Guard Recruit Yurolt."

Kimmila sits down with a nod of thanks, taking a low breath as she situates herself. "Well met, Yurolt. Ahh, a guard recruit?" She eyes the boy for a long moment, looking him up and down. "Where'd Breshir find you?" she asks, her attention now more fixed on the teen than it was earlier.

Yurolt feels the added attention and is not quite sure how to take it. He replies slowly, choosing his words carefully. "The Cap'n…Um…I was just passing through… Marks were running short and well Sergeant Oannis offered me a postion." Not sure if that is a satifactory answer he gives a brief awkard pause and steps over to grab a plate. He quickly shovels some meat rolls onto it and returns to his seat. The lad bites into a roll and takes a long draught from his mug.

Kimmila nods a little bit, still watching the teen. If she's making him uncomfortable, she either doesn't notice or doesn't care. "Ahh. So…you're a guard just because you're broke?" she asks bluntly, taking a bite of food and then a sip of her juice.

Yurolt nods quickly, then changes his mind. "Not entirely. I could do other things for marks, my father taught me enough to make some quick income as a farm hand, and a little bit of harping.
Yurolt pauses for a moment and thinks it over. "No, I'm not just here for the money. I'm somewhat good at it as well." He grins a sheepish grin and shrugs. Perhaps he'll elaborate, perhaps not.

Kimmila arches a brow at the boy, chuckling. "Good at guarding? So you've had experience with this sort of thing before? What weapons do you prefer?" Easing into the conversation, the woman settles more comfortably in the chair and balances her plate on her lap for a few more bites.

Yurolt thinks over the woman's statement. Should he read more into it than was merely said? "Well guarding is easy, it's the combat training I'm good at." He reaches down to the sword on his belt and then motions to the bow across his back. "I prefer the short sword and recurve bow. I wouldn't say I had any experience per say…I fenced with sticks as a boy…Sarn't Oannis says I'm just a natural." Braggard for sure, the lad still shows some modesty in the skills he 'thinks' he possesses. Surely he can't be that bad, Captain Breshir and Sergeant Oannis wouldn't allow him to roam around armed otherwise…Would they?

Kimmila arches a brow at the boy, eyes flicking to the sword and the bow. "Ah. Well. Natural talent will only get you so far. You should spar a few rounds with Th'ero." She's just volunteering the Weyrleader? "It's not a bad bow, though," she adds. "That one from the Guard stores?"

Yurolt nods and gulps at the same time. "Aye, I didn't own anything but a knife when I got here." He turns a rather brilliant shade of red and takes a quick sip of klah. "I…I don't know if…Sparring with the Weyrleader?" Though he is new to the Weyr, Yurolt clearly has the notion that Weyrleader should be unmatched as a fighter. Also…Isn't that the same as sparring with the Guard Captain…that doesn't seem to bode well for the young guard.

Kimmila nods. "You know how to make a bow? That's the best way to go about it. I made mine turns ago, down in southern, hunting." When the boy blushes, the woman laughs, though it's not unkind. "Sure. He's an excellent swordsman. If you ever get a chance to spar, or even watch, take it."

Yurolt shakes his head. "I haven't learned how to make one yet. I think Sarn't will start teaching me that in a few months." He acknowledges the swordsmanship of the Weyrleader with a decisive nod and turns his attention briefly to the meat rolls and klah that constitutes his meal.

Kimmila shrugs, "Maybe," she says. "I'm not sure if the Guard learns to make its own bows or not…but if they do, then good." She nods firmly, sipping at her juice. "So, where are you from, kid?" is her next question.

Yurolt flusters slightly…seething a bit. Kid? He's a member of the Weyr guard, clearly a man! However, tact is just as important as any other skill Sergeant Oannis has taught him. He takes a few quick breathes and puts on a smile. "I come from Frost Stone cothold…It's in the High Reaches…" He shrugs, indifferent to his past and place of birth.

Kimmila smiles a bit at his frustration, lifting a hand with her palm out. "Sorry, Yurolt. But… you are kind of young." She only speaks the truth! "Frost Stone…I think I've heard of it but can't say I've ever been there. What got you wandering away from home, to wind up on the road and then here, without your marks and in need of a job?"

Yurolt nods mournfully…Of course is young…especially to a woman in the cusp of motherhood. "Well, Da' was Harper to the cotholder…well Grandda'. Mom was the second youngest daughter…so not much chance I would be inheriting the place…" He shrugs again and looks into the hearth fire. "Not that I'd want to run that place..Nothing but snow and ice. That miserible excuse for an orchard Grandda' was trying to cultivate…NO…I have little interest in that…" He takes another drink of klah, emptying the mug. He stands up to refill his mug and motions to Kimmila, offering to get her some while he's up. "So I left there when a few months after I turned 15 and haven't looked back since. I just didn't plan well with the money, I wasn't used to having to buy my own food and board."

Kimmila passes over her mug with a nod of thanks. "Did they give you your blessing, or did you just leave?" She's prying, and she certainly knows it, but she'll push her boundaries until he doesn't want to talk any more. "Mmm, it's hard when you're on your own, and you haven't been before. How long were you traveling with that money, before you needed work?"

Yurolt fills the mugs and returns to the table. "There you go." He certainly feels like he's being interogated, but one can only bottle things up for so long. It feels good to tell someone who seems to care a bit. "I…I just packed up one night and left. I put a note down for Mom and Da', but I think they knew I'd go someday. I think that's why Da' taught me how to play a little, and Mom never forced me to learn the family business." He stuffs a roll into his mouth and chews perhaps a bit to hard before swallowing and says, "I was on the road for almost a full turn. I managed to make a bit of money here and there, thanks to Da'. I even spent a few weeks in a hold west of the Ruatha river clearing tunnel snakes from some abandoned caves they wanted to use for storage." He gives Kimmila one of those looks that says, yeah it was tough but I'm not complaining.

Kimmila nods, "Have you been back since? Or sent them word that you're not, you know. Dead in a ditch somewhere?" It's spoken with a bit of a smile, but the sentiment is true, just the same. "Hey, when you're surviving, you do what you can," she says, trailing off a bit at the end there, staring briefly into the distance.

Yurolt shakes his head to the question. "No. I've not been back…" He braces himself with another draught of klah and continues. "Honestly, I'm a bit afraid that Grandda' would have me put in chains to keep me from leaving again. I might not have had any desire to be there, but I was free labor, nonetheless."

Kimmila tilts her head a bit, turning to stare at him for a long moment. "And letters?"

Yurolt shrugs, "I can write if that's what you're asking. I just don't think I'm ready to hear from them yet…" No sadness is in his voice just a bit of emptyiness.

Kimmila frowns, shaking her head. "Well that's rather selfish of you," she says, her voice a bit flat. "You gone for…what, turns? And them not knowing if you're alive or dead."

Yurolt looks questioningly at Kimmila, did he offend? Being a young man, perhaps he's not as mature emotionally as should be. It occurs to him that he never really gave that any thought…What did his family think of him? "I…I uh…never really thought about that…Its just…well…." He drifts off into thought, staring deeper into the hearth fire. Maybe he's gone home in his mind?

Kimmila arches a brow at the boy, sipping her juice as she just waits for his response. Perhaps she's very family oriented - she's pregnant, after all - or maybe she's just free with her opinions. Maybe both.

Yurolt seems slightly shaken by the whole ordeal. "I suppose I just figured they would move on. Perhaps I'll send them something soon…" He comes back to the present and smiles at Kimmila, "How long before the baby comes?"

Kimmila shakes her head, clearly a bit baffled by his thought processes. "You can't just…move on, from a child…" she says, though she winces a bit as she says it. But before things can get awkward (or just in time for them to), she looks down at her belly and shrugs. "Few more months, I guess? Haven't really been keeping track."

Yurolt bursts out in laughter. "You say you can't move on from a child and you don't know how long until your's will be born?" The irony is highly ammusing to him.

Kimmila frowns at the boy, eying him with her eyes narrowing slightly. "It's different. At least I know where my child is," she says, her voice cooling a little bit. But then she shakes her head firmly and holds up a hand. "I'm…sorry, please forgive me. That was…below the belt."

Yurolt shows more maturity than he should really possess and just chuckles. "Not at all…I was the one out of line. You only speak the truth." He finishes off his klah and starts for another mug, but decides against it. "Are you done with you meal? I'm taking my plate and I'll be happy to take your's with."

Kimmila leans back in her chair, rubbing her hand over her face for a moment, taking a slow breath. "That would be kind of you, yes. Thank you."

Yurolt deposits the dishes in the reciptical leading into the kitchens. He heads back to the seats and plucks a couple of sweet rolls from the food table as he passes. He returns to his seat and offers one to Kimmila. "I'm glad for your advice Kimmila. I truly am."

Kimmila shrugs with a faint smile. "So are you going to take it?" she asks, leaning back in her chair and resting a hand over her rounded belly. "I can only imagine how worried your family must feel, having not heard from you."

Yurolt smiles and nods. "I shall write them tonight. Now that I'm employed by the Weyr I have no worry of being recalled to Frost Stone."

Kimmila shakes her head, "No, you don't. But even then…you could always have said no, couldn't you? Or does your family have that much pull on you and your life?"

Yurolt looks Kimmila squarely in the eye. "I honestly don't know. That has been my fear for some time…Perhap i will finally have an answer once I recieve a reply."

Kimmila nods her head slightly, leaning back in her chair again and cradling her mug in both her hands. "That's always the tricky thing about family," she muses. "It can be a fine line to walk, where you want your freedom, but still want to be close with them."

Yurolt nods and seems to agree. Although, one might wonder of any emotional attaches regarding a man that chose a career based on rigid and precious orders and structure. He goes for another drink of klah, realizing he already got rid of his mug and chortles to himself and hopes Kimmila didn't notice.

Kimmila finishes her juice and slowly pushes herself to her feet, giving the boy/man a smile. "Well, I'd better get back to work. Might see you on the training grounds, if I feel like some archery practice."

Yurolt smiles back to Kimmila then raises an eyebrow quizically. "Is it a good idea…being with child I mean?…Nevermind, I'm sure you know what you're doing. I should probably get some rack time before my next duty shift, anyway." He stands and bows to the woman. "I do hope see you again soon."

Kimmila laughs, her grin wry. "So long as no one is shooting /at/ me, then it's fine," she says, dryly amused. "Take care," she says, lifting a hand in a wave before she's making her way back outside.

You say "G'day Kimmila…One last thing! I never did ask what you do in the Weyr.""

Kimmila starts to say something but she bites it back, though her green eyes gleam. "Bluerider," she says. "Varmiroth's, and Th'ero's assistant and weyrmate."

Yurolt nods, slightly bashful that he's been so open and chatty with the Weyrleader's mate…He straitens fully and gives that crisp salute of his. "Have a good day, Kimmila."

Kimmila smiles, chuckling a bit at his shift in attitude. At least he didn't call her ma'am again? "You as well, Yurolt," she says, before she's making her way back out.

Yurolt sits back down for a moment as he watches Kimmila leave. At least he didnt' stick his foot in his mouth…did he?

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.